


Underwater

by dizzywhiz



Series: Gemini [3]
Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Blangst, Canon Compliant, Communication, Episode: s04e14 I Do, Feelings, M/M, Pillow Talk, References to Depression, Sad Pillow Talk, because i'm me, but like, mid-breakup, reaction fic, season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:54:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25478008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzywhiz/pseuds/dizzywhiz
Summary: Blaine didn't intend to fall into bed with Kurt after the wedding reception, but it happened. Physically, he wanted it, but handling the emotional consequences was a different story. AKA what happens in that hotel room between Kurt pulling him in and telling him "I'll see you downstairs."
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Series: Gemini [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1845607
Comments: 12
Kudos: 100





	Underwater

**Author's Note:**

> hi, everyone!
> 
> this is the first of a series of one-shots, all based off of songs from Noah Reid's album Gemini. this won't be the first chronologically, but they will all be stand alone works that can be read separately or together.
> 
> [listen to the song here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TbG__oTS0tU)

He hadn’t meant to end up in bed with Kurt.

He hadn’t meant to kiss him, or to slow dance with him, or to lose himself in him all over again, either.

But it was Kurt, and Blaine was powerless.

It wasn’t that he regretted it - he could never regret anything when it came to Kurt, to being with Kurt, to _loving_ Kurt.

Sure, he did have regrets, and plenty of them. 

He regretted cheating. He regretted ever even _opening_ that goddamn message, the one that launched them - launched _him -_ into an irreversible tailspin. He regretted every thought he had given, every breath he had _wasted_ on any other man - on Eli, on Sebastian, on Jeremiah, on _anyone_ that wasn’t Kurt.

He regretted being too afraid to open his eyes sooner, to see the love of his life standing right in front of him all along, just sweetly and patiently _waiting_ for him to get his head out of his ass and _realize_ it _._

But no, even though his heart was threatening to come out of his throat, to beat out of his chest, he didn’t regret falling into bed with Kurt after the wedding-that-wasn’t.

In fact, nothing had felt so _right_ for a very long time.

Not since he fucked it all up.

For a long time, he never even considered the possibility of Kurt even speaking to him, _looking_ at him, again, let alone making him come apart under his hands and his mouth and his _everything._

He knew he never deserved to have it again, to have _any_ part of Kurt again, and he still didn’t.

Yet somehow, by some miraculous stroke of fate, there Blaine was, sweaty and sated and spent, and it felt like he was coming home.

But it was different, and he knew that. From the moment they climbed into the back of his Prius, he knew they were becoming a whole different iteration of themselves, driven by need and desire and something deliciously and terrifyingly animalistic instead of sweet, tender love and the urge to be connected. The tension had been building between them since Christmas - through flirty texts and phone calls, turned heated and intense and _sexy_ more than once.

They _craved_ each other, simple as that.

For Blaine, it was in more ways than one - in _every_ way, in fact. His body, his heart, his very _soul_ ached for Kurt, but he didn’t know how to put it into words, not that he would have deserved to say them.

Kurt wasn’t looking for his heart or his soul, regardless of whether he wanted them or not, but he _did_ want Blaine’s body, and Blaine wanted to give it to him.

He would give Kurt anything he wanted to take.

_We’re not dating._

_We’re just friends._

_This is just bros helping bros._

Blaine had said it, and he meant it.

But it didn’t stop the feelings from overtaking him while he was face down on the mattress, Kurt’s body covering him completely, swallowing him up and holding him and pressing into him and _fucking_ him, hard and fast and deep and erasing every other touch he had ever gotten, every mistake he had ever made.

It didn’t stop him from losing himself in it, but he knew himself, too. He knew he babbled, and he knew he told Kurt he loved him more than once because he couldn’t _not -_ Kurt was _there,_ and he was _everywhere,_ and every breath, every heartbeat, every fiber of Blaine’s _being_ was for _him._

He couldn’t remember the last time he had _felt_ so much.

It didn’t stop him from crying after, even though he knew Kurt didn’t know how to handle it, didn’t _want_ to handle it. 

He didn’t want to cry, and he was _mortified,_ but once it started, he couldn’t stop it.

And Kurt, sweet, _selfless_ Kurt, cleaned him up, gave him water, tucked back into bed next to him and stroked his back, up and down and up and down, just enough to anchor him and keep him tethered to the universe.

“Come on, honey,” Kurt murmured, voice soft and intimate, unlike anything he had heard for months. “Talk to me.”

Blaine didn’t even deserve that much.

“I don’t know,” he managed shakily once the tears had subsided, once his chest stopped heaving, once he finally started to catch his breath. “I just… I don’t know. I don’t know.”

Kurt was quiet for a while - they both were, save for the sounds of their breathing, unconsciously synced as it had always become at night, laying together, regardless of the circumstances. 

And then he spoke.

“Do you remember when we used to stay up all night, just talking?” Kurt asked, voice seamlessly curling against the silence, warm in Blaine’s ear. “Whether we were on the phone or together, just… talking?”

Of course Blaine remembered.

At the beginning of their relationship, - and before it, even - late nights had been _their time._

It had started out as a means to get Kurt talking about his bullying, about Karofsky, to voice the thoughts and feelings he had never spoken aloud. Kurt was always more open in the dark tranquility of late night - time felt elastic and unreal, the world fading away apart from their voices, leaving them to be acutely focused on one another.

Everything felt safer late at night, and everything felt _possible._

They had spent hours dreaming aloud, threading together ideas for the future and hopes and aspirations, regardless of achievability.

Laying there in the dark next to Kurt, connected only by Kurt’s hand on his back, it felt familiar and different, old and new, right and _wrong,_ all at once.

“I remember,” he whispered, hitching a soft breath in his chest as Kurt’s finger traced along his spine, somehow giving him chills and soothing him, too.

“Maybe...we can do that now,” Kurt suggested, and Blaine stopped breathing.

He knew he didn’t deserve it. 

But Kurt was extending a proverbial hand, and Blaine knew he’d be foolish not to take it.

There was so much to say - an endless number of things, from apologies to admissions to regrets to desperate hopes.

He swallowed them all down in favor of being honest.

“I’m just not sure what I’m doing anymore,” he admitted softly, shifting onto his side to face Kurt, though it didn’t matter in the pitch black. “I feel like I don’t really… fit anywhere. I don’t know if I even have a purpose.”

Saying it out loud for the first time felt soberly depressing, yet true all the same.

“Of course you have a purpose,” Kurt murmured, and Blaine barely suppressed a shiver as he felt Kurt’s hand work its way into the back of his hair, fingers twining around the curls that had come loose from sweat and exertion. “What do you mean?”

Blaine sighed, allowing himself to melt into the mattress, to sink into the remaining boneless feeling of being well-fucked, of being open and vulnerable in more ways than one.

“I’m not sure I know what I’m doing anymore. God, I… I try to fake it, and I try to put on a happy face in front of your- _our_ friends, but I just… I-I just want them to like me, and I want them to _know_ me, but after what I did-” Blaine paused, swallowing thickly, “-I don’t think they’ll ever see me quite the same way.”

It felt so wrong, talking to Kurt about his problems, about the consequences of his own irredeemable actions. But it wasn’t until he started speaking that Blaine realized just how _desperate_ he was to be heard, to be _seen,_ and Kurt was _willing_ , despite it all.

Even still, the guilt was threatening to eat him alive.

“Blaine, I-”

“No, I shouldn’t- I-I shouldn’t even be telling you this, I just…”

The words died in Blaine’s throat, and the room went quiet, save for the rustling sound of sheets, and then Kurt was closer, _so close,_ the full weight of his arm coming to rest over Blaine, slightly cool against the ever-present heat of his own skin and grounding him. 

“You can, and I want you to,” Kurt assured him softly, and Blaine could _feel_ the words more than he could hear them, lips soft and ghosting across his forehead. 

It was enough - _more_ than enough.

“I used to have so many goals,” he began, voice small. “When I was little, I… I thought I could do anything - be a doctor, maybe, or even be president, or- or a Power Ranger, for a while there.” 

Blaine let out a shaky, watery laugh, and he heard Kurt’s, too.

“But… I don’t know. I-I just don’t know what I’m doing anymore, and I don’t know why. I mean, I-I get so many solos in glee, and I won class president, a-and I’m in all those clubs, but I’m just… I’m not happy. I don’t know why I’m not happy _._ A lot of the time I just...don’t feel _anything.”_

“Do you feel anything right now?”

Kurt’s voice was suddenly small, unsure, catching Blaine off in more ways than one. They had talked - _really_ talked - over Christmas, attempting to get it all out there, but every conversation since had been a careful dance around _feelings,_ tiptoeing around anything real and substantial in favor of teasing, flirting, building the tension until it couldn’t build anymore.

The question surprised Blaine, and if the way he felt Kurt tense beside him was any indication, it surprised Kurt, too.

_Do you feel anything right now?_

God, Blaine felt _everything._ He felt alive for the first time in ages, floating in a heady way for once instead of drifting, positively walking on water instead of sinking under it.

He felt hopeful in a way that terrified him. He felt protected and exposed all at once, safe and held yet thrown out to the wolves.

He felt close to Kurt yet further than ever, a current of self destruction running through it all.

“Do you really want to know the answer to that?” Blaine asked instead of saying any of it, instead of attempting to put the jumble in his mind into words, unable to latch onto any one feeling, unable to find any root of it.

“No, I guess not,” Kurt said quickly, and Blaine braced himself, waiting for Kurt to throw his walls up, to pull away, to shut down, but he didn’t.

He stayed.

It gave Blaine the courage to reach out with a trembling hand and initiate a touch for the first time since Kurt pulled him into the hotel room. It wasn’t much, just his palm coming to rest against Kurt’s back in the darkness, enough to feel him there, enough to convince himself that Kurt wasn’t leaving, wasn’t closing off. To his surprise, Kurt didn’t shut down then, either, and Blaine couldn’t stop his heart from swelling in his chest, couldn’t stop himself from feeling _hopeful,_ the intensity of it nearly overtaking him again.

 _“God,_ Kurt, I-“ he choked out around the sudden lump in his throat, dangerously near tears again. “I just… I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for what I did. I-I just missed you, and I didn’t know what to do without you because e-everything around school reminded me of you, and I was just so desperate to be liked and to feel _relevant,_ and I just…I just self-destructed o-or something, and I felt so out of control, and it _scared_ me, and I love you so much, _so much,_ and I just- I need- _mmph-“_

Blaine was close to panicking, the words tumbling out of him faster than he could process, when he was suddenly cut off by Kurt’s lips on his, forceful and firm. He was instantly frozen, caught off guard entirely by the fact that Kurt was _kissing_ him, but it was only a moment before he sunk into it with fervor, hand moving to grasp Kurt’s face in the dark.

He didn’t know what was happening. He hadn’t been asking for it, and hadn’t had it on his radar, subconsciously or otherwise, but he was immediately desperate for it, desperate for _more._ It was like Blaine was crawling out of his skin, and the only thing that could soothe him was _Kurt_ \- Kurt’s lips on his own, Kurt’s tongue working its way into his mouth, Kurt’s hands on him, Kurt _everywhere._

Then Kurt was pushing him gently onto his back, and Blaine went willingly, never breaking their kiss, yet letting out a soft, unconscious whimper. It was overwhelming, but he needed it - needed _more._ His body was so drained from earlier, having already given himself over once, but he needed Kurt to overpower him completely, to remind Blaine of who he _belonged_ to, regardless of anything outside of that room, outside of that bed, outside of his own terrifying mind.

He was Kurt’s for the taking, now more than ever, and that was exactly what he needed to be.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed, let me know! <3
> 
> feel free to subscribe to the series if you're interested in more oneshots like this - there will be twelve in all.


End file.
